Gelsothra
by Joei Write
Summary: In the olden times before the modern world, young sorcerers were tasked with building their own wands from the land. These wands channeled powerful, natural Magic, and made their wielder very powerful in their respective talent. One young Seeker, who is trained in Fire, uses very different materials for his wand, but he does wish a friend didn't have to die to get them...


The Story of How a Wand Was Made

And How a Friend Died

By Joei

In the old times, everything was different. There were no magical impairs, nor were there any curses to kill, torture, or control. In my time, everything was much simpler, so simple in fact, that barely any schooling was required to train me, but others weren't so lucky of course. Hogwarts, as I believe it's called by the wizards and witches of today, was but a joke, and a congregation of ninnyhammers compared to how I was trained in the ways of Magic, and Sorcery. Everyone was frightened of me, not because of my skills, or my appearance, but from my wand. It bared horrid resemblance, to those who feared its own uses.

When I was training as a young wizard, or at least that's what it's called now, we were taught that all true Magic comes from nature, and its majesty and heroism. The way it moves, shapes, and reforms the world is all but one kind of righteous, powerful, awe-inspiring skill. It was something that the first wizards learned to do through the land, and how they tread on ground which they could manipulate to their will. All of us were dumbfounded by the power, and the beauty of it, all but me of course. I didn't have the stomach for such things, to move what wasn't mine to move, to shape what wasn't mine to shape. I learned though, I learned like everyone else, and though I wasn't among the first wizards ever trained, they told me I had the skills of, what a modern wizard would call, a dragon.

All modern spells, though young witches and wizards may deny it, can be traced back to the four main elements of the world. Water, the flowing essence of freedom and healing; it bestowed those gifted with it the power of many things, some of which were banned due to its sheer power and reverence. Earth, strong and powerful as my Great Grandfather's will, and his head as well; Earth was seen as the steadfast entity of defense. Do not be fooled my friends though, Earth was capable of being deadly on the attack if need be, my own Father had a specialization for shifting rocks. That man could bring down a mountain on his enemies if the need was great enough. Wind, the people of my school were always skeptical of the wind. We were told as a group that Wind is the force by which nature flows, not by Water as you'd think it would. My Mother was a gifted Wind witch, and she wondered what the true meaning of wind was. She, like I, was told by her superiors that Wind was the force that represented longevity, and that it guided us to our fates and lives be forth. My Mother however, taught me otherwise outside of the classroom. She unraveled what the essence of Wind could truly mean, and found it to be serenity. However, there still remains an element yet. Water, the essence of freedom, Earth, the essence of defense, Wind, it truly does stand for serenity, but the last was the most dangerous and difficult to learn.

This is where our tale begin abroad, we as young Seekers, as we were truly called, were trained in all of our younger years until the age of thirteen to use all of the elements with our Magic. But life didn't stay so easy. Once we had turned fourteen, we were forced to choose, I suppose you can guess what. Few of us stayed together, friendships forged over the years were shattered, and then turn to dust and blow away on the day we were forced to pick our specialized talents. My own friends went their separate ways, as few were so lucky to end up in the same talent tree as their beloveds. One friend when to learn the ways of freedom by training in Water, a female friend of mine, ran to the Wind, one was thought to be a fool if they remained in a talent group to remain with their friends. And thus it was over, all my partners, my dear and loyal companions, fate torn us apart, and we went our separate ways.

I think that's what made me choose my specializations the most. I was mourning over the loss of my friends, for Seekers of opposing elements never got along very well. There were times when a young man or woman would find peace, and fights were rare, if not nonexistent. They all worked together to preserve the future, something this Ministry of Magic would do well to learn from my time. I hear there's nothing but lies and secrets scattered around those halls. But that is beside the point, for as you might've expected from me, from us, the fourth and final element is Fire. Fire Seekers were rare, and even fewer were seen among the other Seekers. The young Seekers were taught that Fire was the essence of energy, and everlasting flow of life in the world. They tried to make us believe this by using the radical thinking that Fire burns dead objects to their oblivion, and restores life anew.

But any young Seeker with a sense of self, and aura for talent could tell they were lying. I knew what Fire stood for; I knew what its nature truly created. I must say though, the explanation was exceptionally thorough with how they convinced the Seekers. They didn't turn me away from the truth, Fire is the essence of fear, fire, in and of itself is fear. All Fire Seekers had to realize this, you couldn't be one without it.

I guess I was destined to be a Fire Seekers during my era, for they are the rarest of our kind. For argument, if ten young wizards were to be trained as Fire Seekers, as sure as the sun rises and sets, none would complete their training. If twenty wizards tried, none would survive. Perhaps, if a thousand tried, one, maybe two, could have the smallest chances of making it through the training. Even if a million tried all at once, there's no sure way to see that even a single Seeker will make it. The odds are the child of rare and random. I will be honest though, when I was a child, in training with the first three elements, my Mother showed me the tricks to Wind, and my Father showed me the will of Earth. My friend, my she-friend no doubt, guided me through Water; but after I set foot down the path of Fire, I was unquestionably, unrealistically on my own. There were only other Fire Seekers, teachers, mentor, masters if you will, but still I was the only one. Of my possible group, just me, and it was only me; my friends had no time to wish me luck, nor did I for them.

My training proceeded as normal, I definitely didn't excel at the ways of taming fear in its fiery, destructive form, but I managed, and I passed the tests given to me. As I said before, the choice for your talents was made at age fourteen, and the singular training lasted for an extra two years, sometimes even well into adulthood. The teaching of all the other aspects of nature was a gift to those who tried, for if you fail with Water, you may try again, as it is the same with Earth and Wind. With Fire, there is only one chance each, you fail, and you die. The decision was made final by the mentors who taught me the ways of fear, and though I thought I was doomed, they passed me, and I became the youngest Fire Seeker ever recorded. Following my achievement, the masters, my master specifically, gave me one last task, not as a test, but as a rite of passage for all young Seeker, Fire or otherwise. I needed to make my own wand.

I'm told by sources nowadays that all wands are made from wood, and are given to young magic by a man named Ollivander, this is just as pitiful as the school the young ones go to. Making your own wand deepened your strength as a Seeker, and made you more powerful. It also gave you the right to name your wand, but this was so common that countless names have been forgotten to time, along with their wielders. Sometimes, it was even hard to tell who was the Seeker, and who was the wand. Many wands had their own qualities as well, a wand made out of wood was a common sight, but since everyone had to make their own, a twisted, bent wand was even more common. My wand was not made of wood, they forbid it. They said the wand of a Fire Seeker should live up to the Seeker holding it, thus, I could make it out of anything, but not wood.

The time has come for the beginning of our true tale, the tale of how I made my wand for myself, by myself. I must admit though, I never expected what happened, no one did.

It was day three since I was sent out to make the wand for myself, which was still very early on, as you weren't expected to return until the weapon had been created. Usually, the whole class did it together, and everyone made it through the land at the same time. Not for me however, no, not for me at all. Up until that point, all training had been done with what the masters called practice wands. Useless pieces of feces they were, I was amazed the wands we used weren't the reason we failed. They had silly little curves all over them, and none were straight. A straight wand was a sight to see, at the bends and curves demonstrates the precision of all made wands. My wand wasn't straight, it was curved, but that was all, no maniacal bends or twists, just curved into a thin arc shape.

While venturing through the land looking for the right materials for my wand, I happened upon a valley, and it was one of the most beautiful and seemingly delicately things made that I've ever seen. I was sure I'd see a unicorn while I was down there, it was that pure and charitable. The confidence in my body was unmatched by anything I had felt before, just the scape alone filled me with euphoria and gave me visions of delight and radiance. The materials were there, I knew it, I felt it. An old saying says that the wand chooses the Seeker, 'tis a true statement, but during my era, you only had one wand. If you lost it, unless you could, by some miracle, fix it, it was gone for a lifetime. But I would not lose my wand once I had it made, mainly because I had the best reason to keep it safe. A reason of which I will share in due time with all of you, just be patient my friends.

I'll be honest with all of you, I knew not what materials I was searching for, I'd never made a wand for myself, or for anyone prior to that time. I suppose it was a lesson that Seekers needed to learn on their own, as I never recall being taught how to make a wand from anything at any time. We had been learned to understand the basic construct, but beyond that, we were all ignorant. Weeks later, after this venture, I found out that my friend, the one who walked the path of Earth, used elm wood, and a unicorn hair as his source of power. I found it fascinating, but by that point my wand was already constructed, and I had my weapon. The girl who walked with Water coated her wand made from evergreen pine with serpent venom, and used Veela hair as a power source. Today, I hear they are known as cores. My former friends had a skill for building wands, for during a brief conversation we all shared, they had made their within the first few weeks, which to our masters was quick. But most wands made that fast were sloppy and weak little things, such was the case with the wands of my friends.

Now, where was I? Ah yes, day three of my journey for my very own wand. I'd like to say that, before the sojourn you're about to heard took place, Magic was near impossible to do without a wand in my time. For every ten Fire Seekers in the world, there was maybe one wizard or witch who could do Magic without the aid of a wand. I never learned the art during my era, but I had the potential to do so. Manipulation of the elements during our legends without a wand was an impossible feat; anyone who could do so was thought to be a deity of some kind or another. Keep that in mind as I continue, for at the time, I could use no magic to help myself survive or create my wand.

The day was cloudy, skies were gray and the wind was fierce on my neck. The bugs buzzed around as I made my trek down the mountainside into the valley below. It was still an unreasonable sight to witness, I knew that my wand could be found and created through these resources before me, but I could never have known where they'd come from. To start off this tale simpler, and to give you all the knowledge you have been seeking, I will tell you how it started from the top of the mountain to my exiting of the valley. The time has finally come; this is the story of my wand.

As for mentioned, it was a dreary day, with bleak skies and meddling clouds; I could smell the scent of rain, a skill we learned when training in Water. But it was no ordinary rain, it was a storm of flashes most deadly and shrieking noises loud enough to make a child cry. The buzz of the pests around me pecked at my dried, pale flesh as I stared into the sky, that sad, crying sky. The tears began to fall toward me, and an insect got directly hit on its small wings, making it topple down, to it, what seemed like hundreds of feet. There was no hesitation from me, I ran, we were taught never to run downhill, but the sky lights shot towards the ground, had I walked I would've been struck for sure. In fact, I nearly was struck, several times, there must've been iron deposits in the rocks surrounding me which drew the streaks away from me. But all drama aside, I made it to the trees below with blood boiling inside my legs begging me to halt my running.

It was there, I found a small ledge, this was the first sign things were going well. I gathered the necessary materials for a fire and skipped a meal, as nearly getting killed made me lose my appetite. The night in the valley was peaceful, and no even a cricket sung out of tune. In the distant sky above my longing head, I saw the moon, it wasn't full, no, it was only a crescent. Wolves howled in the land as well, but using Wind knowledge of sound, I could tell I was far out of their range, I could sleep soundly. The issue was, no way could a young Seeker, Fire or otherwise, sleep when I had the strangest feelings that my wand was near. They say that a wand calls to its master when it's near, and that night, I found the rumors to be true, I heard my name being called on the wind, it ricocheted through the rocks, it skipped over the water in the nearby and rather large lake, and it cut through the quiet night air to me. During Earth training, we were taught when the right moment was to strike our fellow duelist, and to search now, right then in the glass fragile silence, would only be an ill-mannered move on any Seeker's part, and so, I resisted, and I stayed still.

The morning that followed was a vibrant one, with light of the sun sharing it's iridescence with the valley in ways I'd never seen before. The mountain refracted the light, created a vivid display of color above me in the sky. I saw purple, and blue, coupled with green and pink as well. It was a sensational eye catcher, something out of a dream no doubt. I only noticed it because the light shone on the rock of the ledge I was sleeping under. It bounced off and penetrated my eyes to the brink of the equivalent of a sword slicing through a person's bare skin. After my eyes were gifted with the dance in the sky above me, I was forced by my gut to move on, for the wand was close, I felt it with every part of me that contained Magic.

So from there I trekked, I moved forward with an untoppable will, a burning soul, and an exposed heart. It was actually around noon when the pieces first started coming together, and I mean that literally my friends. I stopped by the lake for a drink, and hopefully to catch a fish for food, when something made the water I was drinking ripple. I stopped, puzzled, I checked my surroundings and there was no one, not even a small woodland creature to be frightened by the easiest things. Again, the water shook, like it had been stepped on by an unrelenting brute. Naturally, I was frightened, and I dropped the water in my hands and stood up to face this foe, or this force. With some luck I would see it before it struck, even if it struck at all. To my heightened horror, the most terrifying things in life are the thing that we cannot see, and whatever, or whoever was causing this was just that. I looked, and I shook, and felt over onto my back after what felt like a tremor shot up through my being and grabbed hold of me and tore me down to ground level. My hands were gripping the small stones around me so tight my knuckles were red, and then quickly turned white. My teeth chattered, and I wasn't cold; compiled with that, I also never blinked once, secure to any who might have seen that I was truly scared, but from what I have already described to you, I'm sure you already knew that.

Suddenly, there were gusts all around me, knocking me to and fro in direction that were out of my control, and sure enough, my head go hammered onto a rock, and it nearly knocked me out. I always wished that I had been though, for as I stood back up after crashing my head, I looked up to see something that all young Seekers such as myself absolutely dread, a full grown, scaly beast with lashes for wings and the skin paler than the glow of the full moon. By the folks today, they'd call it a dragon, but we called it Winged Death. The Winged Death wasn't alone though, it was chasing something. The beast was flying after a lone red bird, to this day I'm not sure whether it was a Fire Bird or not, but either way, the Winged Death wanted the bird dead, and it seemed to be halfway to completing its task. I had stood back up since falling down to the ground, but I should've stayed down, for I collapsed once again out of pure shock and jolt, a feeling that made me wonder how it would compare to getting struck by the flashes during the storm the previous day. I slowly started to back away, still dragging my fingers through the mud and small stones that was near the lakeside, and I watched the Winged Death chase the bird as well.

My eyes were casted upon the chase, for the two spun around in circles, and neither of them seemed to acknowledge my presence. My hands got cut, and the redness inside drifted out and onto the rocks I was gently, but yet still frighteningly easing across. It was only after a few hands of this horrid that another Winged Death, one much bigger and whiter than the one already chasing the bird, flew in and started striking at the other one. The bird somehow got away from it, and the Deaths battled it out over the lake's mirror. I turned around all the way and I ran, I ran into the land, the trees and the brush for cover. Near the edge of the cluster of overgrown plants, I found a small pile of large boulders, the flesh and blood of all Earth Magic. I hid behind it, and I gripped the side of the stone, my eyes were locked shut, and all I could hear over the sound of my own throbbing heartbeat was gnashes, and cuts, and other remnants that had a flesh tearing connotation. Soon enough, as I hadn't seen anything other than the first initial strike from the first Winged Death, I heard a crashing howl, a bellowing of anguish and mortal failure. The trees snapped beneath the giant's weight, and the ground quaked with the fall of the beast. It felt as if it had landed near, but I was too petrified to open my eyes and check my surroundings.

I waited, it was the only thing I could do, and I kept waiting until the roar of the other Winged Death was far out of distance; I was never more grateful to be able to tell when and where something was by noise than then. But another sound erupted through my inner ears, but it wasn't a sound created by wind travel, no, this sound emanated from right in front of me, no Wind training required to hear it. It sounded raspy, and hoarse, there was a thought in my head of what it could be, but I had never prayed before that it would be what I hoped it would. Slowly, but not slow enough at all, I opened what was left of my trembling eyes, and there the beast was. It was hurt, its wings cut, scratches and all other injuries over its body; the beast was beaten, despite its lager size to its opponent. At first, I couldn't move, the breath of the monster was felt on my face, and it was almost like a solid stone spell. But then I noticed something new, something I was never taught to see when I looked into a Death's eyes. It was a hint of sadness, like it knew that it had failed. Up until that point, I had no knowledge as to why the Death was attacking the other, for I assumed it was just a matter of territory of for a meal. But the light shades in this one's eyes changed all of that in an instant, and suddenly, I knew why it looked like it would die a failure, why it would die a traitor. It had all made sense to me now, the bird was its friend, and it was trying to defend it.

Never had such an occurrence been recorded by my own people, nor has I believe any record be written down since. After this notion, I lost my fear, my paralysis. It just simply let go of me, and I had nothing to fear from this Death. If anything, from that point on, during its last moments, to call it a Death would be shameful. I made a light step towards it, and it turned its head only slightly, taking in the knowledge of my nearness to it. Without any words, I knelt down to its mouth, and placed my only hand on the front of its snout. It watched me, and it blinked, I didn't know Deaths could blink. Our knowledge of these creatures was limited as they were already; I had no quarrel with the monster's intentions, not if it was doing what I think it was doing.

It exhaled, and it seemed like it was sighing, and not moving its mighty chest up or down in the usual manner. There was no question, the fighter was dying, its wounds were too great, and there was no enough time for me to do anything but sit there with my hand resting on its nose as it made the passage to the other side. I felt so helpful, the creature did nothing wrong, and now here it was dying for the sake of saving its friend. I was sure that's what it was doing, how could it have been doing anything else? There's an old expression said by the people of Wind that goes, "The eye can't lie, what you see, was meant to be…" And I truly believe it now. I read the fighter's heart; I read its every motion, the Death was a good one, a protector, not a monster like the one it was trying to fight off. But yet still, there was nothing that could be done. I swear it on my life, but not a second before it was truly gone, I looked into its eyes for the sake of comfort, and we shared a moment. In that one moment, everything was clear, it passed its wisdom to me, it passed its friendship's to me. In that moment, we became friends, we formed an unbreakable bond, and the very next moment, it was all taken away from me.

I made the tragic mistake of looking into my friend's eyes as it died, a sight that stayed with the barer for the rest of their days. There was no time to close its eyes so that it died honorably, and the light faded and the beast was gone. I didn't cry, I couldn't, there were no tears, the bond had been formed too fast, and then broken again. I had always believed that everything happens for a reason, and my new dead friend before was an omen, and omen for greatness and prosperity for myself. I would use this gift, and I shall not let this majestic creature die like a dog. So I set to work, after a few words for my friend, I waited. I chipped stone bars from the rock I hid behind during the initial fight, and then wrapped it in leaves I found nearby. I did this for many days until I had discovered the proper technique for making the handle. A handle for my wand, a handle made of stone was frowned upon, but I didn't care, I couldn't use wood, so what other choice could I make?

Unfortunately for me, the fact that I made a stone grip before I found the length, it would compromise the fine, grand design of the wand itself. No one had ever made a wand out of dragon bone before, so this would either be immensely powerful, or a colossal failure. I had to start right away, and after the many days of perfecting the handle making technique, I could finally chip of the claws of my dead friend to use at the tip. As I mentioned before, the right fit was a pain, and I had to try more times than a simple luck of the draw with making the handle. Soon enough, I was down to the last few claws on my friend's feet, and I had to move up to the sharps on its wings. I guess fortune smiled upon me then, for the very next claw I was blessed with was a perfect fit, and I used yet another stone grip. They fashioned together like they were meant to be part of the same weapon, and I was convinced that they were. There was just one thing missing, the powers source. No Veela hair would do, nor would dragon heartstring, none of these petit sources would fit this one over-whelming wand made from the stone which I hid, and the claw-wing for the friend I lost.

The bird was nowhere to be seen during all those days I made my wand under the fighter's nose, but I couldn't cast any spells without a core. But one day, in fact, it was one of the very last pieces of the grand design to fall into place, I heard a wild neigh, and above my head soared what looked like a flying skeleton. It was like the land had purposefully sent the creature, as it landed in a small clearing nearby. I ran to it, and stopped and admired it. It resembled a horse, but it looked starved, and it had wings and a long boney tail. I felt sorry for the best, but I had heard of these monsters once I realized what it was. It was a White Walker, or something the modern wizards would call a Thestral. It faced me, and I had wondered why I could see it. We heard about White Walkers, they could only be noticed by those who had watched someone die, but the thought seemed bleak to worry about. The Walker slowly came over to me, and I met it halfway. It turned around and looked as though it was scratching its wing, but when it came around, a single, yet very lengthy hair hung from its mouth. I never knew a Walker's hair could be used as a power source, there'd been no record of that either during my time. The hairs on their bodies were thin, and I was amazed that it managed to find one on its seemingly bare skin.

That was it, the Walker gave me the hair, and it flew away. I don't know how or why, but the other parts of my wand reacted to it. It glowed when the three pieces neared one another. And so I joined them all as one, I shall not say how, as it is a sacred art of my people. Just like that, a wand fit for a Fire Seeker was born, and the trials of a lifetime stood before me. I returned to my friend's body, which had just started to decay and rot. The smell was rancid, but I steadfast against it. My very first spell with my new extension was a flame shot, to burn what was left of the beast, as an act of pride. Only Kings in my time burned, for this, he deserved it. Next, I used the Earth to dry it out and clean it down, so that the rocks summoned peeled his flesh. It was it, only the skeleton remained, and I encased it in a mound of stone, which I then set alight. That was the end, my friend, the fighter, the guardian was buried properly, and my time in this glorious land was at an end. I had spent many weeks there, and before I turned to go, I saw the same red bird sitting in a tree. It looked my way and flew, but I still couldn't tell what it was.

And so I walked back, through rain and snow, and I showed my mentors my creation. They were skeptical, but it was my wand, they'd deal with it, or I'll make them. Lastly, I had to name it, and during the course of my stay with the fighter, I came to call him by an honorable name, a name worth of his heroic actions and sacrifice. Even though I had no idea that I'd be encased myself in crystal a few months later for hundreds of years, I still proudly gave this weapon the only name that would dare give it the pride and truth it deserved. I walked out into the sun on that new day, and I carried with me a tool made of stone, Winged Death claw, and White Walker hair, to which I highly stood, Gelsothra.


End file.
